


Starvation for Compensation Dies

by strawberrytaxidermy



Series: Crimson Euphoria [1]
Category: Skullgirls (Video Game)
Genre: (but only bc cerebella weird asf also its one-sided anyways!, Blood, Blood Drinking, Death, Gore, Guro, Incest, Insecurities, Other, Regret, blood sucking, dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrytaxidermy/pseuds/strawberrytaxidermy
Summary: Casandra (Cerebella) Medici wasn’t ever prepared to lose this hard
Relationships: Cerebella & Eliza, Cerebella/Vitale Medici (one-sided)
Series: Crimson Euphoria [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848595
Kudos: 3





	Starvation for Compensation Dies

**Author's Note:**

> this is just the scene where cerebella dies in elizas story mode but with angst and actual depth

_Where did things go wrong?_ You thought as you were slammed against a cold, metal pillar. Goosebumps arose on soft flesh, followed by a chill snaking its way down your body at the feeling of cold marble against sweaty, flushed skin. You wriggle and squirm, but quickly find there’s no use. You're bound tight by blood, which musked the air and made you lightheaded. One of many of your trusty, iconic costumes, completely torn to shreds. At this point, there was hardly an inch of you covered. Working with the Medici, you quickly grew used to the usual lack of feminine modesty. However, considering the current circumstances, it now only served as another insult to injury, all adding up to be the most embarrassing loss you’ve ever had to take. You could hardly dwell on the thought for long, even if it was only a figment of the present. It was just too embarrassing, all too humiliating for the one and only Cassandra (Cerebella) Medici. With a sting of ache, you wonder how Vitale would feel if he saw you. 

“You might’ve beaten me, but you can’t beat the entire Medici family!” You try to shout, though it’s muffled behind the formation of blood keeping you still. You feel yourself heave slightly as some of the liquid seeps into your tastebuds, sounding off your uvula. Which would normally make you cough, and lurch forward in reflex. Yet, you’re held completely still, and forced completely silent. You were completely at this Pharaoh’s mercy now. 

The “Pharaoh” being Eliza, the Bastets Den’s favorite nightly songbird, smiled at you through piercing onyx eyes and the nauseating smell of blood in the air. Through her deceptively plump, soft lips, her teeth were sharp, specially handcrafted with the purpose of piercing skin. Just looking at them made you physically cringe, something you didn’t know you were capable of after getting the shit kicked out of you harder than you ever had before. 

Normally, the petite woman carried with her such a deceptively sly, seductive air. Something that almost coiled around you, swaying you whatever direction she’d want. A cold and calculating vixen, body and riches to boot. But, as always, you were quick on your toes, even in thought. Her velveteen tone and silky dialect didn’t phase you in the slightest. All you could see in her captivation, half-lidded, turquoise eyes was a dirty, self-absorbed manipulator. Perhaps Vitale knew it, too. Which is why he sent you to supervise her every move. And despite his praise that you always kept in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but feel small as all Eliza and her useless cronies did since leaving the other Medici’s sight is berate and belittle you. Tell you how weak, how stupid you are. And it was annoying, oh for sure. More annoying then Feng’s seemingly endless, childish, mid-rehearsal whining, or Dahlia's sarcastic, dry, completely unhelpful lectures. Combine the previous two, and it still wouldn’t even hold a candle to how much Eliza pissed you off. Every time the singer would open her stupid mouth, you wanted nothing more than to see Vice-Versa sock her in her ugly face. Which is why you were somewhat relieved when the woman finally decided to let her (completely obvious) plans slip. After all, it gave you a chance to finally show that old, washed up Cleopatra wanna-be who’s boss. 

But, that isn’t what happened. Far from it. It’s like Eliza could read you like an open book. Every move you made fell flat, like she knew what you were going to do. Nothing seemed to hit, and when it did, it might as well not have. She fought like it was the most simple of tasks, and came out on top, completely unharmed. Normally, you’d be steaming. Stopping now at nothing to get her back for everything she did that made your blood boil. But there was no time for anger, no time for insults. Despite your predicament, it seemed like the one who’d end up on that brisk edge of life, death, and ungenuine apologies was you. 

Eliza positioned a hand on her hip “Sadly, they don’t talk about me in history books. But if you saw my resume, you’d know I was overqualified for that little job.”

_Just how old is this lady?_ You thought before tossing that out the metaphorical window and focusing back on the situation at hand. You felt yourself grind on your teeth as you looked beyond the performer. Eliza’s two good-for-nothing washups stood a short distance behind her, smiling. Smiling like their ever-so-beloved dear lady wasn’t about to tear her to shreds and leave her in pieces. She was going to leave you in pieces. That’s why you couldn’t go down without a fight. Your body was weak, bound tightly in place with no chance of escaping, but you still had your words. Just like your fists, your words seemed to have the same effect. _Nothing phased Eliza. Not coming from you, at least._

“Just try it.” You tried to growl “You’re nobody- just some nutjob with a Parasite!” 

Eliza only grinned at your response, blood swarming around her lean body like angered wasps. The look on her face read of no emotion you’ve ever seen from her before. What you said, though you didn’t think much of it, seemed to make something in her click. You felt your stomach sink, and muscles tense. Behind her, Albus and Horace seemed only entertained by the things you were saying, the expressions you didn’t know you were making. Eliza put something down, they picked it up. They knew exactly what was going to happen to you, and the only thing they were going to do was laugh. Maybe, if they were feeling generous, they’d clap for your corpse when the show was over. 

Her thick heels clicked against the floor tile, body lurching back 

“That lack of perspective,” Running forward in one swift motion, drawing her hand up from behind her up like a sword, Eliza punctured her arm right into your chest 

“Is something I’ll have to fix about the world!”

You watched. You watched as the vixen drove her stiff hand right into your vital. All from that point forward was sharp, indescribable pain. Nothing that could be described with words, or anything, for that matter. You felt every single vain squeeze as the fluid was drained from the inside of your body. Felt every single drop leave your system. Almost like you were feeling your heart deflate, as it convulsed and twitched and demanded for some sort of help, or healing, or sign of stopping. But there was no sign of stopping, what lay ahead was only the seemingly sweet embrace of death itself. And if that loving embrace with arms rowed with knives and nails stuffed with needles wasn’t death after all, then you didn’t even want it. Anything else at this moment seemed folly, useless. Nothing could save you from the fate that- for you, was now completely sealed shut. Shut tight, with glue, and concrete, then chained, and locked, then shoved inside a safe. There was no changing fate, no going back, no stopping all the screeching in your mind that _begged and pleaded stop, stop, please, stop, stop, stop, please, I beg, make it stop, please-_

And suddenly, all the weight put on you, put against you, vanished into thin air. Gone was the chill of the marble pillar on your back, and the dull weight that masked your face and tore fingernails into the roots of your hair and just gripped. No, in the quickest of time, it all let go. You never felt more empty, more drained. Not after back-to-back shows before adoring audiences, not after fighting whatever silly fools your dearest Vitale occasionally sent you after, not after Black Egrets soldiers left you for dead years ago. Not even close. This was a different type of empty. An empty that hit so hard both mentally and physically, you weren’t sure what hit you hardest. 

The marble floor was cool against your hollowed body. You let everything inside of you go, even amidst the sound of the assassin's soft laughter, and the pop of her lips as she sucked whatever residue left of you clean off her fingers. Gone was that lucious mansion home, with beautifully sculpted statues, glass ceilings that made sunlight flood into the beautiful home, and the gentle sound waterfalls, all that was left was crimson. Your world is now as crimson as hers, you thought. 

  
  


“Well, I’ll not miss her.” You heard through distortion, and the sound of your entire body slowing to a complete stop. 

**Author's Note:**

> check out the other one i wrote from elizas pov! its shorter but has less rambling if thats more your thing


End file.
